Return to Hogwarts
by TristanTrelawney
Summary: Bereft of career options, Owen Marsh decides to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the Assistant Librarian to Madam Pince. As he finds his place in the world and rediscovers the magic of Hogwarts, Owen realizes being a staff member has many unforeseen perks. Post Deathly Hallows, but expect to encounter many familiar faces.


Chapter 1

Owen Marsh stared determinedly down at his breakfast of plain, unbuttered toast and avoided the bespectacled glances his father gave him every few minutes over the top of the _Daily Prophet_. His mother puttered about the kitchen, aimlessly cleaning up with her wand in one hand, while proofreading her newest text on arithmancy in the other.

 _Always reading or writing_ , thought Owen dejectedly. In some ways his parents were so typical of the Ravenclaw house they'd both belonged to during their time at Hogwarts. When Owen too had been sorted into Ravenclaw, they'd regarded the event as an interesting piece of data and promptly moved on to other topics.

Rhys Morgan cleared his throat and set down the _Daily Prophet_. "Now, Owen," he began…"I know you don't think this much of an opportunity, but Irma hasn't had an assistant in all the time I've known her. And I daren't say she's getting any younger!"

Owen's mother, Ava, gave a last flourish of her wand that sent sparkling cutlery hopping to open drawers and joined the others at the breakfast table. "You've always loved the library at Hogwarts dear," she added softly. "How many times did you mention it was one of your favorite places?"

"I know this is the logical decision," Owen said shortly. "After the way my N.E.W.T.s turned out I should be happy to have a job at all."

While his final marks hadn't been all that bad, an Acceptable score in Defense Against the Dark Arts had dashed his dreams of being a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. His single Outstanding, given to him in Charms, was enough to obtain him an internship at any number of wizarding businesses, but they'd all seemed excruciatingly dull to Owen.

In an act of desperation, he'd written to Headmistress McGonagall at the start of the summer, asking for any advice she could provide. Within the week her response, along with a letter from Madam Pince, had arrived by owl.

 _Mr. Marsh,_

 _I appreciate that this is a difficult time as you figure out what you will do as an adult wizard and graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not all options are readily evident and I have taken the matter under advisement with Madam Pince. Please see the attached letter._

 _Headmistress M. McGonagall_

Owen had read the reply with a mixture of confusion and gratification. While he hadn't been especially close to the headmistress, her austere demeanor had never intimidated him as it did the other students. Madam Pince was an entirely different matter. Even to the best behaved of students in the library, which Owen had considered himself to be one, she was forever scowling and snapping. Her letter had been a considerable shock, and he could still remember it word for word.

 _Dear Mr. Marsh,_

 _It is with great reticence that I would like to offer you the post of Assistant Librarian for the upcoming fall term. This position is probationary and your continued employment would be evaluated at the conclusion of term._

 _The library here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a most sacred place, one-of-a-kind in the wizarding world. It is only because you have an unimpeachable library record from your school days, a proficiency for advanced charms and the credibility of two renowned academic parents that I have extended this proposition._

 _If you decided to accept, please respond immediately and plan to arrive at Hogwarts two weeks prior to the start of term with other staff and faculty._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Madam I. Pince_

 _Librarian_

At first Owen had dismissed the idea of working at Hogwarts. Go back to the school he had just graduated from? He'd be a laughingstock, a joke. But in the days following the communication, Owen had started to consider it more seriously. The library at Hogwarts was truly, as Madam Pince had said, one-of-a-kind. Wizards from all over the world requested admission to see rare and valuable texts. And anyone with "Hogwarts" on his or her resume could expect serious consideration for employment from any number of prestigious institutions, like the Ministry of Magic.

With nothing but the blank void of his future stretching before him, Owen had reluctantly decided to accept. Rhys and Ava had been thrilled, if tepid enthusiasm could be considered "thrilled." And so, after sulking around his parent's London townhouse for most of the summer, it was finally time for Owen to return to Hogwarts.

"Well I'll get my luggage and start for King's Cross," Owen said quietly as he stood up from the breakfast table.

"King's Cross?" his mother exclaimed incredulously. "Surely you'll apparate to Hogsmeade?" She had a worried expression on her face, as if this initial decision was a bad omen.

"Mum, they've added a car to the Hogwarts Express for faculty and staff," Owen replied patiently. "A lot of the new professors live in London and I suppose they thought it would be a good opportunity to meet one another."

"A marvelous idea," Rhys interjected. "Just don't forget you're not a student anymore. It wouldn't do to undermine your authority before you even arrive." Owen didn't bother to respond, but headed to his room to collect his things.

With two sturdy leather suitcases in hand, he kissed his mother on the cheek, allowed his father to give him a limp, one-armed hug and walked out the door and onto a quiet suburban street. Having lived in London all his life, it was easy for Owen to navigate the Tube and push his way through the crowds of King's Cross Station to Platform 9 3/4. With a long, quick stride he walked through the seemingly solid brick wall and emerged onto the platform. Immediately the ordinary, everyday sounds of the train station were replaced with a cacophony of young voices yelling back and forth, intermixed with the assorted hoots, croaks and hisses of pets in large wire cages.

After conferring with an attendant, Owen started towards a car at the very back of the train. He kept his eyes determinedly forward, hoping to avoid any interaction with the seventh year students he had known last year when they were sixth years. He was almost to the step of the car, when a voice shouted out his name behind him.

"Owen! Owen is that you?"

Feeling his face begin to redden, Owen reluctantly turned back to acknowledge the tall seventh year in Slytherin robes waving at him vigorously. "Hello Randolph," he said, all the while looking around uneasily.

"What are you doing here? Did you receive my letters this summer? I was hoping to hear from you."

Owen stared appraisingly up and down Randolph Ward as the Slytherin spoke, taking in his taller, more muscular stature and long blond hair that was bound in a rather ostentatious ponytail. They had been involved in a brief romance during Owen's last term at Hogwarts. Randolph had written several times over the summer, but Owen, feeling ashamed at his lack of career options, had refused to pen any responses.

"Well to tell the truth," Owen began hesitantly, "I've decided to accept a position as the Assistant Librarian at Hogwarts."

"Brilliant!" Randolph exclaimed. "A few months with you weren't nearly enough," he added with a sly smirk.

Owen's face was flushed a bright red by now and he took a quick step toward Randolph. "I'm not a student anymore. It would be inappropriate for us to have any unprofessional communication going forward and I hope you can respect that. I didn't respond to your letters for that very reason." Owen ignored the look of angry hurt on Randolph's face and quickly continued. "I need to join the other staff now." Before Randolph could reply he turned around and practically bolted up the stairs and into the faculty car.

For a moment Owen couldn't see anything as his eyes adjusted from the sunny platform to the shadowy interior of the car. Blurred outlines became indistinct shapes and finally transformed into what, Owen was elated to see, was a surprisingly comfortable looking room. Dark brown leather armchairs were clustered into two groups of four on one side and a long, mirror backed bar took up the center of the other. In addition, two beautiful bay windows with dark stained glass and comfortable reading nooks were placed on either side of the bar. Brightly hued Persian rugs were overlaid to cover the floor and small wall sconces with flickering candles provided a soft, orange light.

It was certainly different from the regular cars, Owen thought to himself. Magic had obviously been used to create the bay windows, and the lack of outside noise suggested additional enchantments for increased comfort. Choosing one of the armchairs at the very back of the car, Owen sat as a house elf took his luggage to a storage compartment.

"Can I offer you a refreshment, sir?" a voice squeaked. Owen looked to his left and another house elf had appeared at his elbow.

"Just a cup of tea with lemon, please," Owen responded.

"Right away, sir!" The house elf bowed low. "My name is Hinkle and I will be your bartender during the journey." With that said, Hinkle bustled over to the bar where he stood on a large stool and began preparing Owen's tea.

Owen was just beginning to relax when a large figure appeared in the doorway. The stranger did a quick scan of the room and moved straight for the bar. "I'd take a double fire whiskey on the rocks" Owen could hear him say to Hinkle. "Aged twenty years if you have it." Hinkle took a dusty green bottle from below the bar, poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler and added two large ice cubes.

After a curt thank you to Hinkle, the new passenger headed over to Owen and stopped directly in front of him. "Professor Gregory Smith, Defense of the Dark Arts," the man said stretching out a callused hand, which Owen shook with a slightly distracted expression.

"Owen Marsh, Assistant Librarian," Owen replied, his eyes taking in all of the professor.

Gregory Smith had close cropped, burnished bronze hair with a meticulously trimmed beard to match. His light green eyes were complemented by a dark green shirt stretched tight over what, Owen could only imagine, was an extremely muscular and hairy chest. Owen's eyes traveled lower and widened fractionally at the prominent bulge clearly outlined through grey wool trousers. Apparently Professor Smith was not only built like a rugby player, but had an endowment any man would envy.

With a start, Owen realized Gregory had been talking to him during this reverie. "Sir, I apologize," Owen stammered. "What were you saying?"

"Only that I don't envy you for the world," Gregory replied with a twinkle in his eyes. "Irma has terrified me every time I stepped foot in that library and I doubt age has made her kinder."

"She's a top-notch librarian and I'm lucky to be working with her," Owen retorted a tad defensively. "Sir," he added quickly.

Gregory grinned, showing his white teeth. "There are only a few situations in which I'd require you to call me 'sir' and this is not one of them. You can address me as Gregory in private and Professor Smith in the presence of students. Is that satisfactory?"

Owen nodded, trying to keep his blushing to a minimum.

"Well, I'll leave you to your privacy," Gregory said with another smile. "But I'm sure I'll see you throughout the course of the term." With that the professor moved to the other group of armchairs, chose one and sat with his drink in hand.

"Here is your tea, young master," Hinkle squeaked. "I hope you'll apologize for it's lateness, but I did not want to intrude."

Owen sipped at the hot tea, enjoying the strong flavor and aroma as he tried to avoid fantasizing about the burly professor sitting only a few feet away. Owen hadn't been in an amorous mood during the summer and his uncomfortably stiff erection was proof of his lack of companionship.

He heard a magically amplified voice give the five-minute warning and wondered bemusedly if it would just be Professor Smith and himself for the entire trip. Taking out his wand, Owen whispered a few quiet words, tapped his teacup and placed it onto empty air where it sat as if on a coffee table.

There was a noise at the other end of the car and two men entered, one right after the other. The first was slim, wearing a perfectly fitting navy pinstripe suit and looking as if he belonged on a billboard for a male cologne advertisement. He had elegantly coiffed black hair and a languorous sexy smile he kept on his face while not making eye contact with anyone in the room. After a quick survey, he moved to the reading nook farthest from Owen and stretched out like a cat basking in the sun.

While Owen had been observing this, the second man had shaken Gregory's hand heartily, greeted Hinkle with a wide smile and taken the seat directly across from Owen's.

"Hello," the man said brightly as he stretched out his hand. "I'm Neville Longbottom."


End file.
